


Charlie

by Darkhorse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Je suis Charlie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhorse/pseuds/Darkhorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something to show solidarity with France at this time, and express my feelings of respect towards their reaction</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charlie

**Author's Note:**

> Not the best I've ever written, I couldn't start untill my emotions were calming down, so it might have lost some urgency. But I hope it can stand as a sign of solidarity.

Javert pocketed his phone in a sharp movement. "I have to go into work."  
Valjean stared at him "It's a rest day for you, and booked holiday."  
Something's come up, all but family emergency are called back to desks. Even as he spoke Javert crossed the room, picking up hat coat gloves and a slice of bread in almost reflex action. A breif kiss was pressed to his cheek, with the same essence of haste. "Don't turn on the television for a while, and make sure Cosette gets to her college" Then, just like that, he was gone, and Valjean found himself staring down the hallway at a shut front door.

Eventually, a few hours after Cosette had gone, he found himself considering Javert's first instruction. Something was clearly up, Cosette had been unusually subdued on the way to College this morning. Something was clearly up, and she must have been told some of it by her friend,Marius. He reached over to the armchair, picked up the remote, and pressed the ON button.

It took a few minutes before he found out exactly what had been going on, he'd come in at the middle of a press report, and struggled to peice together what was going on. Gunmen, manhunt, Charlie Hebdo. 

When they did do a round up, he sat there staring at the screen, oblivious to small tears running down his cheeks. That such a thing could happen here, in Paris, the city which had been known for its freedom and radical pamphlet sales for almost 300 years. Charlie Hebdo had been one of those who took the most risks, but they weren't specific, he knew they'd made fun of the Pope himself prior to this. They were cheeky, they leaped clean over the boundaries without looking... but they didn't deserve to be murdered for it.

Cosette came home almost bristling with emotion, but it didn't hide her double take at the sight of him already dressed in hat and coat, ready to go out, and the obvious note to Javert telling him where they were "Papa?"  
"I thought you would want to go to the vigil."  
She tilted her "You are coming too? I thought you didn't hold with Marius and his friends."  
"This isn't about them, not today."

The Place de la republicque was a sea of people, Tricolours, and signs. It was also conspicuously silent for the large number people who filled it. But the silence spoke, as did the pens and pencils clutched in gloved hands, the placards held up "I am Charlie". Valjean slowly raised his own hand, pen gripped tight. This was a protest, solidarity against what had happened. No one had asked, but Paris, nay, all of France had answered. They would fight for, guard their liberties en masse, with words and weight rather than force of arms. As he looked around he saw people of every age, every creed, every political division in the crowd. This attack had roused everyone, pulled them together. He and Cosette's friends were perhaps a prime example, they stood side by side, yet some of their thoughts were too radical for his tastes. _If only it had not taken such a tragedy to bring us all together_ The chants of Liberte rose above the silence, far towards the middle someone played La Marseillaise on a violin. Silently Valjean mouthed the words, taking comfort in the familiar rallying cry. France still lived, and would carry on.

Javert stumbled through the door two days later, sallow faced but with glittering eyes "It is done."  
Valjean stepped forward to brace him upright "When did you last sleep?"  
The police officer blinked "Last night, a few hours at the station. We were all there, in blankets, cots. We slept where we could by our shifts. Gisquet did try to send us home, but no-one without young family was budging." Valjean saw his eyes loose some of their glitter "The funerals will be in a few days."  
He let his partner sit down before asking a question which had nagged at him "Did you know any of them?"  
Javert shook his head,cuppign his hands around the mug of warm milk "No... But I know Marebets direct superior. Those..." His jaw tensed with what could only be pained fury, unable to find or say the words he wanted to use "He was a Muslim. A better one than them, and they shot him in cold blood."  
Valjean put his hand on his partner's shoulder, offering companionship, if he couldn't comfort.

Sunday. March day. They walked out three abreast, holding hands, and found their way towards the press of people which was the march. As they grouped to join from a side street, all Valjean could see was a sea of people, even more than had been in the Square that night. As they filed in and fell into the shuffling march he felt Javert grip his hand tighter. Glancing up he saw what might be tears in the Inspecteur's eyes. So many people, enough to cram the streets like sardines and turn a march into a shuffle, all out for one cause.  
Javert's voice came out croaking when he did eventually speak "I never guessed... I knew it would be impressive, but this is beyond that... This is like the tales my Mother told me of Liberation Day."  
"To arms, citizens, Form your battalions, Let's march, let's march!" Valjean found his lip rising as he quoted half of the chorus, and Javert returned it  
"It seems we do not forget that brave sentiment, if we're given a cause for it."  
They lifted their heads and fell into step amid the sea of tricolours.


End file.
